


The Man from U.N.C.L.E.: Operation Jurate

by SufficientRogue



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Gen, Past Relationship(s), Regret, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2020-10-26 02:28:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20734757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SufficientRogue/pseuds/SufficientRogue
Summary: It's August 1964. The U.S. is a storm of unrest. Assassinations, rumors of war, and riots in the streets threaten the American Dream. Napoleon Solo is standing in the middle of the powder keg when he gets the call: U.N.C.L.E. has a mission. But his relief of escape is short-lived as details of the mission begin to surface: an old flame, his dark past, and artifacts missing since World War 2 await his dutiful return.





	1. Reunited

An aggressive knock sounded at his front door. Napoleon sighed and rose from his chair stiffly. It had been months since his torture at the hands of Gabby’s dear Uncle Rudi. 1963 had come and gone in a blur of triumph and tragedy. But the dreams and phantom pains that plagued him had not subsided. In the intense dreams, when he is back there and sure that he will never escape, the sudden pulse of electricity through his system is enough to jolt him awake.

When he had received a phone call about his upcoming mission he had decided to keep the issue to himself. He had been informed they would be coming, and he was actually looking forward to it. The America of the team’s post-Istanbul trip was rife with tension before Dallas. Now it was reaching a boiling point.

Napoleon cracked the door open to see Kuryakin, Waverly, and Sanders standing in the entryway. The men wore serious expressions. "Mr. Solo." Sanders nodded. 

He took a step back and waved the men into his living room without a word.

Sanders wasted no time. “U.N.C.L.E. has a mission, Solo.” he started. “A very unique one." 

"Hello, Sanders, it's wonderful to see you, too." Napoleon snipped. "I've been doing well. How about yourself? Drink?"

He frowned at Solo and continued. "One where your expertise will certainly come in handy.”

Napoleon walked over to his decanter of scotch. “Would it now? Which expertise?”

“Your knowledge for antiquities.” 

Napoleon paused. “You're entrusting me with antiquities?"

“I trust you enough with these antiquities given that I know you want out of my service sooner rather than later and I would have no issue slapping an exuberant amount of time on your sentence for theft of this caliber.”

"And really, it's more of entrusting your team." Waverly chipped in. 

Napoleon arched an eyebrow towards Sanders as he finished his pour of scotch. “Well now you certainly have my interest. What is it exactly we’re looking for?”

Waverly strolled forward with a folder in his hand and held it out to him. “I think you’ll know when you see it.” 

Napoleon sat down his drink and took the folder. He peeked inside and shook his head incredulously. “You can’t be serious.”

“I believe they are, Solo.” Sanders stated flatly. “I scoffed when I first heard it too. But they are serious and wanted your help. I thought it would be a good change of pace for you and it definitely does fit in your area of expertise.”

Napoleon took a deep sip of his drink and paused thoughtfully for a moment. U.N.C.L.E. wanted to find the biggest treasure known to man? “What is it you hope to achieve by finding it?”

Waverly and Sanders shared a look. “There was some discussion that if the mission were a success and it was located we could use it as a show to the public that a dedicated team of specialties from some of the world’s biggest superpowers could work together for good.”

“You want to bring U.N.C.L.E. public?”

“I don’t want to, but it has been discussed.”

“We’re in the middle of a Cold War. And a Space Race.” Napoleon said aloud. “I don’t think that just because one lost piece of history is suddenly found our countries are all going to decide to hold hands and sing ‘Kumbaya’.” He looked over to Kuryakin. “What do you think, Peril?”

“It sounds like noble intention, but I am a part of group that believes that they were burned up in the fire.” Kuryakin responded with a shrug.

Napoleon nodded. “I have to agree. I feel that if they were around I would have definitely have come into contact with them by now.”

“Depending on who took them and where they put them.” Waverly responded. 

Napoleon felt a jolt of the white heat shoot through his arm and he tensed. He focused on not dropping the drink in his hand. The onsets were sporadic but they had only become slightly easier to deal with. He pondered if there was permanent nerve damage, and what that would mean. Would he be seen as unfit for duty? Would that land him in a cell for his last few years?

Napoleon shrugged and looked to Kuryakin. He was stone faced. Had he seen Napoleon’s twitch? Something bothered him and it was not something he would talk to Solo about in front of their handlers. For that, Napoleon was grateful. 

"The Amber Room is one of the most sought after treasures of the post-war era.” Napoleon continued. “What makes you think I'll have better luck than anyone else in finding it?" 

"You're connected, Solo. And you're not only better than anyone else currently searching for them. You're the best." Waverly explained. "And, as previously stated, you'll have your team. They've been instructed that you take point on this. With your orders coming from me." 

Napoleon looked at Kuryakin. "And you're just totally fine with this, Peril?"

Kuryakin shot him a look. "As fine as the other two are." he bit out. 

"Other two?” Napoleon asked. 

Sanders cleared his throat. "Yes, Solo, given your history there were some who didn't agree with me that the looming threat of added time in my service would be sufficient to deter you from old habits. So you have a handler, of sorts."

"Officially, your co-commander of this mission." Waverly offered. "Unofficially, your babysitter." 

Napoleon's eyes narrowed at the two of them. "Who?"

Kuryakin stepped to the side rigidly and pulled the door open. "Madam, if you would be so kind." 

The click of heels echoed off the hallway floor as they neared the door and Napoleon smirked. Clearly Sanders didn’t take his need for a handler very seriously or else he wouldn’t have chosen someone who Napoleon could wrap around his finger. 

Or so he thought. 

The woman rounded the corner and stepped lightly into the entryway of Napoleon’s apartment. His head began to spin and his vision darkened. Sanders was way smarter than Napoleon gave him credit for.

"Jo?"


	2. Dossier: Josefina Adler

Agent Dossier:

Name: Josefina Adler

Date of Birth: October 30, 1929

Place of Birth: New Jersey

Country of Origin: USA

Telephone: XXXX XXXXXXX

Present Address: XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX, New York

Other Addresses for the past 15 years: California, Nevada

Agency position: U.N.C.L.E. Operative and Enforcer

Previous Intelligence Experience: C.I.A., 1960-1963

Military History: N/A

Combat Experience: Classified

Specialism: Larcenist - Class A2, Smuggler - Class A2, Sniper - Class A1

Special Skills / Knowledge: Expert in Organized Crime (Italian Mafia), Art Connoisseur, Weapons Specialist, Historian

Languages Spoken: English, Italian, Chinese, German

Psychological Profile: Mild Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, Active in LGBT Community (Bisexuality)

Other Notes: Former acquaintance of Napoleon Solo. Suspended sentence for smuggling, racketeering, and tax evasion.


	3. Lukewarm

Josefina’s POV:

Josefina Adler walked into the entryway of Napoleon Solo's apartment and back into his life after six years. She took in his appearance, impeccable as always, and offered a small smile. He had gotten a little broader in her absence. No doubt a sign of the extensive CIA training. But the thing that never changed was the instant bolt of sentiment that hit her in the chest every time she saw him. 

When she awoke to him being ripped from their bed that fateful morning six years ago by government agents she had accepted that she would never see him again. The Genovese Family did not want the attention of the American government to be drawn to their dealings anymore than they already were. And when one of their best smugglers was found in bed with an international art thief being led out in handcuffs it was bad for business. 

So when the phone rang with calls from the Bayview Correctional Facility she would reject the connection and hang up as she was instructed. The calls went from frequent to once a week and then abruptly stopped altogether. At the time she hadn't known what it had meant for him.

But now she did. 

Jo felt exposed to the group of strangers as she stood in the doorway. She took a step inside, her gaze locked on Napoleon. His expression was one of shock, awe, and an undercurrent of pain. She made sure to straighten her spine and stand tall when the last thing she felt was strong and solid. "Hello, Napoleon."

His gaze turned hard as he looked to Sanders. "You realize she is a criminal as well, don't you?" 

Josefina flinched slightly.

"She handled millions of dollars in cash, artwork, and other valuables for the Genovese, yes, we are aware, Solo." Sanders stated calmly. 

"So why is she more trustworthy than me?" Napoleon asked as he eyed her. She could feel the want to shrink away from his angry gaze, but she refused to give in and lifted her chin in a hollow act of defiance. 

"Her job was to deliver goods given to her to their intended destination. She has no mark of ever deviating from those responsibilities. She was the most trusted of their bag handlers." 

"I was entrusted to do that, too."

"After you stole them." Sanders snapped. 

"That's a really thin line."

"But a line nonetheless." Sanders retorted sharply. "While it may matter to you it doesn't to us. She was entrusted with valuables and she delivered them with no incident. She followed a code to the letter with a loyalty many don't seem to have these days." 

"So how come she's working with us now?" Napoleon asked as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Classified." Sanders replied promptly. 

"You can't be serious?" Napoleon replied with a shake of his head. 

Josefina saw Waverly take a step forward. "Gentleman, there seems to be some obvious tension about the history here. Perhaps if we moved to our secure location we can have this discussion more openly." 

Napoleon sighed. "I'll grab my coat." He walked down the hallway and out of sight. 

"Don't mind his crankiness, dear." Sanders said to her warmly. "He doesn't want to be a part of this anymore. But he owes me four more years."

Josefina put on her best smile. "Well, he could always be a little cranky when he didn't get his way."

"Like a child." Kuryakin growled lowly. 

She smirked. "Exactly."

Napoleon stepped back out with a packed suitcase and his coat on his arm. “Well, shall we get on with it?”

The group filed out of his door and into the hallway. They made the elevator ride in awkward silence and Josefina closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths in an attempt to center herself. She stepped out of the elevator and walked a tense, quick pace through the lobby. As she stepped out onto the curb, she saw the taxi that awaited her. She climbed into the back seat in silence and watched in horror as Napoleon moved to the back to load his suitcase into the trunk and all of the other men climbed into a second cab that waited in front of hers.  
After a moment of wrestling his luggage into the trunk, Napoleon climbed in beside her and slammed the door. He was quiet for about two blocks before he spoke. “So, how was your time of freedom while I was in jail?”

“Napoleon….”

“Only my mother calls me Napoleon.”

Josefina glanced at him. “I always called you Napoleon.”

He sat up stiffer and fussed with the collar of his jacket. “Well, only my mother calls me Napoleon now.”

Josefina chuckled. “Well, what can I say? Get used to it.”

He glowered over at her but she refused to acknowledge his sour mood. 

They would get three more blocks before his curiosity got the better of him. "So, how in the world did they manage to bag you?"

Josefina shook her head. "My lookout allegedly didn't notice we were being followed for a bag run. Feds pulled me over two blocks from the casino after the pick up." 

"Allegedly?"

Josefina made a face. "Considering where he is now I don't think anyone believes he just didn't notice."

"You were setup."

"Most likely."

"But how did you end up with our esteemed employer?"

Josefina leaned toward him and dropped her voice to a hushed tone. "My current employer and my old employer have had some previous business together. Some strings were pulled, charges lessened in exchange for my expertise in certain fields. Plus, I feed the spooks some intel from time-to-time to help my old employer out with rivals."

Napoleon studied her closely. "You know you're playing an incredibly dangerous game."

Josefina cast him a sympathetic look. "I've been playing a dangerous game for a long time. Well before we met the first time."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"Not at all." 

"You shouldn't be in this life."

"As I recall you telling me the first time we met." Josefina replied briskly. "But that didn't stop you from finding your way into that coatroom with me now did it?" 

Napoleon tensed. "I just mean this kind of work should be kept-"

"To the menfolk?" Josefina laughed. "You're very handsome, Napoleon, but even you don't have the God-given gifts needed to...persuade everyone." she smiled. "Besides, I've been told you already have a female agent on your team. Gaby, is it?"

Napoleon waved a hand dismissively. "She's different." 

"In what way?" Josefina asked as she fixed him with a firm look. 

He faltered for a moment. "She's….not already neck-deep in trouble like you are."

"Are you sure?" she retorted, a smug look on her face. 

"How do you mean?"

"I mean, your team for this whole mission is already two people who aren't doing this for, oh, how would MI6 say it? Crown and country."

"Peril is a part of it as well. What do you suppose his sin was?"

"His sin was being born in Russia." Josefina retorted. "To a father who had sticky fingers and a mother with loose morals. He's not a prisoner. Not exactly. Just to his pride and honor."

"Her father was a Nazi. As was her uncle." 

"Of course. And that's why she helped in the beginning. But why has she stayed?" 

“It’s better than being back over the wall?”

Josefina shrugged and gazed out of the window. New York zipped by them as they rode in silence. “I’m sorry I never answered.” she said suddenly. “I was under strict orders not to.”

She felt as Napoleon turned his gaze on her. She tore her attention off of the window to look at him. He seemed to study her for a moment. “You did what you had to do to survive. There’s no point in holding it against you. We both made mistakes when we were young.”

Josefina nodded. “Yeah, we did.”

“Just....tell me I can trust you.” he said quietly.

Josefina turned back to him and looked him in the eye. “You can trust me. You always have been and you always will be able to trust me.” She sighed. “I may not be the best girlfriend in the world, but I’m a loyal person.”

“I was going to propose to you.” Napoleon shared.

She smiled. “I know. I found the ring in your bedside table. I never told the police about it. I know we were supposed to turn over all of your belongings, but I couldn’t bring myself to part with it.”

“So where is it now?”

“That’s for me to know.” Josefina replied. “Anyway, I also did not cooperate with their investigation. Which I think may have been the beginning of my downfall. But I’m not a bird.”

“You don’t sing.” Napoleon said with a small smile. “Well, not for them anyway. Not on the people you care about.”

The taxi came to a stop before a nondescript office building. They watched Waverly step from the cab in front of them and stroll casually to the front door. “They must have dropped off the others further down.” Napoleon remarked. 

“Not a bad plan.” She motioned towards the curb. “Shall we?”

Napoleon opened the door and slid out. He offered his hand to Josefina. She took it and he helped pull her from the car before he walked around to the back of the trunk and gave two solid knocks.He pulled out his luggage and the two of them walked side-by-side in silence to the front door.


	4. Operation: Jurate

Napoleon walked through the doors with Josefina by his side. Nothing about the quaint interior of the lobby was worth remembering and he was sure that was exactly how the powers that be had intended it. He heard the soft click of Josefina’s heels across the floor and tried not to think about her anymore than he had to. She was a dangerous distraction. She always had been. Josefina was the lesson he had had to learn the hard way. Don’t get attached. Don’t tie yourself down to anyone. If you want to be a man on the run you had to love them and leave them. When you didn’t you just made yourself a target. Especially in her world, where knowing the right information could scratch the right person’s back and send them bursting through your door.

Despite everything, he had never blamed her for what happened. She trusted her boss to make the right call. For all Napoleon knew, he had. Perhaps there was something to be gained from the old man giving Napoleon up. Did it help him win a turf war? 

They stopped in front of a darkened, nondescript door as Sanders saddled up from across the lobby and swiped a card through an old scanner. It was impossible to see into the room they were intending to walk into. The loud clicks of the lock bolts sliding back met their ears. “Shall we?” 

Napoleon and Josefina nodded to him silently and stepped inside followed by Sanders as he pulled the door tightly behind him. “Welcome to U.N.C.L.E. Headquarters.” he began as he held out his arms in show. “Humble, isn’t it?” 

Napoleon scanned his surroundings. A small number of cubicles and file cabinets littered the office space. Cords stretched to and fro to sloppily placed phones on the edge of desks. Some had people speaking in hushed tones while others rang for someone to answer. Across the open space, he saw the head of Peril as he walked through the door on the other side and took in the scene. “Humble is a word for it.” he mused. “I would never expect a Bond lair, but I didn't expect it to be this bland either.”

“Well, welcome to bureaucracy, Solo.” Sanders quipped as he walked away. He waved his hand impatiently and the two fell in line behind him. Waverly and Sanders met in the middle of the space and things grew quiet. For the first time, Napoleon actually could see that in the center of the room there had been a line drawn. Not a real one exactly. But the way the desks were shifted. Each side had one desk facing the other side, almost like a guard tower. The rest of the cubicles faced away from each other, their secrets intact. As Waverly and Sanders stood face-to-face now, both sides quieted down. Silently the men and women in each cubicle rose uneasily, glancing between the men and their counterparts across the floor. For a moment, Waverly and Sanders stared each other down before they nodded to the respective guard desks and the tension in the room was released. Napoleon let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. Waverly and Sanders turned on their heel and walked towards a conference room with a dark glass wall. Josefina fell in behind Sanders and Gabby behind Waverly. They shot each other a look, squaring up their competition in the event something went south, and with a curt nod to each other followed the men. 

Napoleon went to take a step forward but felt the vice grip of Kuryakin. He looked him in the eye. “Do the Americans really think us so stupid?” he growled lowly.

Napoleon flinched. “I don’t think anyone thinks you’re stupid. What is your problem?”

“My problem is that two C.I.A. agents are on this mission.”

“What, are you afraid you’re going to get taken out by the girl? Let’s be real here, you know we’re about even in a fight.”

Kuryakin snorted. “Sure thing, Cowboy.” He let go of his arm but his tone did not ease. “I will be watching you two very carefully. This is very precious relic to my people. I will not see any underhanded business on my watch.”

Napoleon held up his hands in mock surrender. “You’ve got it, Peril.”

Kuryakin took several steps forward before backing up to look at Napoleon again. “And another thing. That woman? What is she to you?”

Napoleon took a deep breath. “That’s a loaded question, Peril.”

Kuryakin studied his face and for a moment Napoleon thought he saw a hint of softening. But he shook the thought off as Kuryakin stared him back down. “Is she going to be problem for you? Compromise you in some way?”

“About the same way that Gabby does you.” Napoleon retorted. 

Kuryakin exhaled loudly. “That was what I was afraid you’d say.” he growled lowly.

“Are you gentleman coming or do we need to let you two have another fistfight in the john?” Sanders called gruffly. Napoleon straightened himself up as Kuryakin stormed away.

Napoleon closed the space to the door and entered the room. He found it to be more spacious than he had anticipated and the light shone brightly across a stack of papers, files, and maps. A whiteboard was against the far wall with the title “Operation Jurate” scrawled across the top. He cast a sideways glance at Josefina who was studying the board intently.

“Now,” Waverly began, “Who can tell me about Jurate?”

Josefina leaned forward. “If you are referencing what I believe you are referencing, then you are speaking of the legend of Jurate and Kastytis.” Waverly nodded and motioned for her to continue. “My understanding is that the story can vary but that there are keys notes that remain the same. It is a Lithuanian tale. Jurate is a goddess that lives under the sea in an amber castle. She fell in love with a fisherman named Kastytis. Another god found out about it and in a fit of fury struck the amber castle and shattered it into a million pieces before chaining Jurate to the bottom of the sea.”

“Very good, Josefina. What does that tell you based on the knowledge that you have previously been given about the current mission?”

“That you believe the Amber Room is underwater?” Gabby quipped.

“That you believe the Amber Room is somewhere in Lithuania,” Napoleon replied. “The problem here is that is the territory of the people who hold Peril on a leash and they don’t think too kindly about the rest of us at the current moment.”

“Not to mention the almost constant state of war in that region between the Soviets and the Lithuanian people,” Kuryakin spoke up. “The Lithuanian people vehemently despise my people. What makes you think they will help me?”

“They won’t help you,” Sanders said matter-of-factly. “That is what makes this op so difficult.”

Waverly stepped forward. “There is a multiple-step process we have to undergo this time, ladies and gentlemen.” He wrote a one on the board, followed by Italy. “This group will first be headed to Italy to make use of some old contacts that Josefina has on retainer.” Napoleon shot a look at Josefina and saw her pale. “From there, you will have a casual migration to France. There, Napoleon, you will be meeting up with an old friend. He’s probably going to ask you to do something for him. Whatever it is, we expect you to get it done.”

“Even if it’s illegal?” he asked.

“We expect you to get it done,” Sanders said cooly.

Napoleon nodded in understanding. 

“From there, if our sources are correct, this gentleman in France will have the information needed to infiltrate the black market showcase that will play host to the Amber Room. That market is said to be taking place somewhere in Lithuania. Napoleon, Gabby, and Josefina will be infiltrating to secure the target.”

“How will I get in?” Gabby asked. 

“A friend of mine will be making contact to ask for you to escort him for the evening,” Waverly replied.

Kuryakin shot them a look. “And what am I supposed to do?”

“You will be responsible for making sure that you can get the manpower and the setup together to pull all the pieces out and get them back over the Lithuanian border to the U.N.C.L.E. rendezvous point.”

“And once they go back to the rendezvous point they go back to Russia where they belong, yes?” he replied.

Sanders and Waverly nodded. 

“And then we all shake hands and talk about how the power of teamwork made this happen and so on?” Gabby asked.

“Precisely,” Waverly replied.

“That is quite optimistic for such a barebones plan.” Josefina pointed out. 

“And it gets even better.” Sanders chimed in. “If you get caught, depending on where you get caught, there is a good chance that you will come to find that U.N.C.L.E. does not exist, nobody in the community knows who you are, and you will be left on your own.”

“So, it’s optional if we want to accept this assignment?” Napoleon quipped. 

“No, Solo. So do your best not to get caught.” Waverly retorted as he pulled a large yellow envelope out of his jacket. He tore into it to reveal four, smaller envelopes with just a first letter written on it. He took turns sliding them to their respective owners. “Inside you will find your travel documentation. Tickets, passports, hotel information. Ms. Teller, you will be former Baroness Christiane von Platz. Do note, as I’m sure you are aware, Germany no longer recognizes royalty, but does allow you to keep your aristocratic particle of ‘von’. Kuryakin, you will be her personal security hired by her father to allow his lovely daughter to experience Europe.”

Gabby shot a look at Kuryakin. “Hm. Well, it makes more sense than my Russian architect husband, I suppose.”

“Which leaves you two.” Sanders pointed. “You two get to play our lovely newlyweds.” 

Napoleon stifled a groan and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You really think that’s a smart idea?” he bit out.

“Absolutely not. But it’s better than Teller and Kuryakin. They didn’t exactly sell loving couple the last go around.”

“And what makes you think we can?” Josefina interrupted.

“Look, you’ll either sell convincingly sell ‘loving, newlywed couple’ or post-marital, ‘what the hell have we done’ couple. Either way, the intensity of the emotional conflict between you two should, at best, sell what we’re going for, or at worst, make people so uncomfortable they don’t even want to notice you.”

Napoleon leaned forward and examined the documents he pulled out of the envelope. He casts a small glance at Josefina who was trying hard not to look up at him. “Are you going to be alright with this?”

Josefina looked up after a moment and gave a small smile. She shrugged. “What choice do we have?”

“Prison, I seem to recall.” Sanders cut in.

Napoleon shook his head and stared at her earnestly. “Jo-”

“I’ll be fine,” she replied. She met his gaze. “I promise.”

“Well, that settles it then.” Sanders pulled the various papers and maps from the table towards each member of the team and began going over various details that would be detrimental to mission success. Napoleon tried his best to pay attention but found his mind wandering to the times ahead. He had been right in saying that Jo would only compromise him as much as Gabby compromised Peril. 

And, Napoleon thought darkly, Peril had been right to be concerned about it.


	5. Pre-Flight Jitters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group begins its journey to Italy. But first, they have to deal with an unexpected guest.

Josefina stood staring blankly into the mirror in the airport bathroom. Any minute she would have to be "on" and playing her role. It seemed a momentous task to her now. She had been bombarded with intrusive thoughts throughout the night and sleep had been fleeting. 

If it had been anybody else, she wouldn't be having this problem. She never had before. But Napoleon was different. What they had had was real. He was going to propose. She knew she would have said yes in a heartbeat. The younger, naiver Josefina had been convinced he was her happily ever after. She believed they would get out of the game together, buy a house in the suburbs, and raise a family. 

Josefina smirked at her reflection bitterly and shook her head. "Wishful thinking, Jo." she muttered to herself. 

She donned her sunglasses and put on her best fake smile. The airport buzzed as she stepped back out into the terminals and she sauntered her way over to their gate. The windows reflected the planes as they lined up to be fueled and boarded. 

Josefina tried not to be anxious. She normally traveled by train or ship and both were perfectly fine with her. If it weren’t for the sensitive deadline of this mission she would have continued to do so. In her opinion, planes could not be trusted. They were flimsy, metal tubes that rocketed through the sky and sometimes came up short of their destination. Airlines were averaging about half a dozen plane crashes a year according to the CIA’s meticulous recordkeeping. Carol Lombard, Buddy Holly, and Ritchie Valens had all died in plane crashes. Not to mention the growing threat of hijackings. If the group had to fight off a group of hijackers over the Atlantic, they could kiss their covers and their mission good-bye. 

Her breath came out heavy as she sat down next to Napoleon. His hand reached out for hers and she gladly welcomed the distraction. His eyes never left the paper he was reading and she found herself reading along with him to pass the time until her eyes fell on an article about a foiled hijacking attempt and her stomach dropped. With a sigh, she turned her attention to people watching.

That was when she first noticed the unsettling man. Everything about him triggered her trained senses. His gaze would linger a little too long. He was anxious, fidgeting with his carry-on bag and tapping his foot. His gaze fell to his watch approximately every three to five minutes. 

Josefina gave her a hard squeeze to Napoleon’s hand. “Dear,” she murmured. 

“I know,” he replied quietly. “Peril and I are about to deal with it. When he gets up to go to the restroom, I need you to grab his bag and dispose of it.”  
She leaned over to feign a kiss on his cheek. Behind the paper, her face was obscured. “And what will you two be doing?” she asked softly.

“Disposing of him,” Napoleon stated firmly. 

Josefina leaned back and feigned a smile. Her heart was slamming against her chest at the thought of the two men having to wrestle an obvious threat in an airport bathroom. What if he was armed? She didn’t even want to know about what was in the bag she would have to discreetly obtain. 

The man began to repeatedly cross and uncross his legs and Napoleon folded his newspaper and placed it on her lap. He leaned over with a smile and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll be right back, darling.” His voice oozed with sweetness but his eyes remained hard and determined. 

Josefina took deep breaths as she tracked Napoleon peripherally. Once he ducked into the restroom, she began to count the seconds in her head. If the man moved too early, she would know they were dealing with an amateur. Too late and he may very well be completely unaware of who Napoleon was and could very well be just a bumbling hijacker who had picked the wrong flight to try his shenanigans on. 

But he stood at precisely the right time and began to casually make his way towards the restroom. Josefina kept her eyes trained on the ground so as to not make eye contact. Napoleon and Peril’s success in apprehending this man depended on his incorrect belief that he had not been made. 

Her eyes flicked over to the door as the man slipped in. He hadn’t caught her gaze and she began the countdown again. Next would be Kuryakin. She had never been so happy to see the large, threatening Russian man stroll across an area. He ducked in the restroom and it was Josefina’s turn.

She gazed around their terminal lazily. Everyone seemed preoccupied with their travel companions or their newspapers. There was no handler that she could see for the poor sap currently being pummeled in the restroom. 

Josefina stood and stretched. Her foot slid under her own bag and she pushed it discreetly next to the target’s bag. She kneeled down and feigned digging through her belongings, scanning the terminal to make sure nobody had taken a sudden interest in her. When she was confident that she was in the clear, her hand slid over to the man’s bag and grasped it firmly. 

She stood and walked away from the terminal. She had no idea where she planned to take this unwanted paraphernalia, but she made her way towards the food court. There were enough garbage cans in place that surely, she would be able to slide it into one without anyone noticing. 

As she sauntered through the airport, her eyes scanned the faces of the people she passed. It was at another gate that she caught sight of Waverly. Their eyes locked and she turned sharply towards him. Her gaze fell upon the marquee to register the flight was bound for Atlanta.

With a plastered-on smile, she sauntered up to him. “Excuse me, sir, is this seat taken?” she asked with a southern drawl. She pointed to the open seat next to him.

“Oh no, no. Please, have a seat,” he responded with a smile.

Josefina sat down next to him and placed the bag next to his. He eyed it apprehensively and she knew that he was there to handle it. She didn’t know how Napoleon and Peril had managed to get the word to him, but she was grateful they had. 

“So, how are you this fine morning?” Waverly asked her nonchalantly. 

Josefina smiled. “Well, I'm just peachy, darling. Traveling back home after a visit with my sister here in New York. How about you?”

“Oh, nothing nearly as exciting. Business, I’m afraid.”

“Well, I certainly hope you got to spend a little time enjoying the city. I certainly did. I met no shortage of handsome men. Though it certainly seems my luck has continued to my travels this morning.” she smiled sweetly. 

Waverly arched an eyebrow and turned towards her with a smile. “I’m feeling quite lucky myself.”

“Boarding call for Flight 236 to Atlanta,” the check-in clerk’s voice called out across the terminal. 

“Atlanta?” Waverly froze. “Oh goodness, no! I’m meant for the London flight. Is this not Gate 32A?”

Josefina shook her head. “I’m afraid this is B terminal.”

“Oh, dear Lord!” Waverly jumped up and grabbed Josefina’s bag. “I’m so sorry, love, but I am afraid I am in the wrong place.”

Josefina smiled. “I guess we’re not so lucky after all. Safe travels, handsome.” She picked up the bag he had left behind and waved to him as he darted away. 

The line to board had already reached out toward the edge of the terminal and she slid into it for a few moments. After ensuring nobody was paying attention to her, she broke away and made her way back towards the proper terminal. A couple of quick stops to the restroom and a snack stand found her wandering back without the bag and with a delicious pretzel. A couple of people glanced up indifferently as she made her way back to her seat, but quickly returned to reading their newspapers. She slid her foot under her own bag and slowly worked to pull it back towards her. 

Within a few minutes, Napoleon came strolling from the restroom. He was straightening his collar and she could see him working on bringing his breathing back to regular levels. She looked him over and was relieved to see that he had no serious damage. 

“Now boarding Flight 456 to Catania.” a voice called out. People began to move about quickly and gather up their belongings to start queueing. 

Napoleon strolled back over and smiled. “Are you ready, darling?”

Josefina felt a moment of weakness at the trademark Napoleon smile but mentally kicked herself to get over it. “Of course, handsome.” 

They grabbed their bags and Napoleon reached for her hand again. Josefina grasped his with a smile and began running a number of mental exercises in her head to keep her distracted from the flutter in her stomach that the gesture created.


	6. Daylight in Italy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I am one of many stuck in quarantine, I do plan to get moving a little faster on this story. I just have to keep a good balance between my online coursework and writing fanfic! Admittedly, this will be a struggle as I would rather write any day.
> 
> TW: Brief discussion of abuse.

The plane landed in Italy as the sun rose. Napoleon had fallen asleep alongside Josefina and awoke to find her head against his shoulder. He hated how it made his stomach flip for a moment. They were two difficult people and he knew better than to ever think that all that happened between them could ever be erased. Even still, he could not find it in his heart to be harsh to her for more than a few moments. He had never been able to stay mad at her for long.

He reached out and touched her gently on the cheek. “Jo,” he whispered. 

Her reaction was strong, violent, and completely unlike the Josefina he was used to. She grabbed his arm and twisted it back. “Don’t fucking touch me!” she roared. Her expression was a mixture of fury and fear and he could see that she didn’t immediately realize who he was. 

Several passengers looked at them wearily. Josefina looked around the plane and her cheeks reddened. “I’m so sorry, everyone,” she spoke quietly as she released Napoleon’s arm. “I guess I wasn’t having a very good dream.” she grinned sheepishly and took his hand in hers. “And I’m sorry to you as well, dear. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Napoleon looked at her worried face and felt the tremble that still lightly shook her arm. “I’m fine, darling,” he replied. “I know you have those old dreams about the war sometimes.”

For a brief moment he thought she would object to his statement but instead, she nodded. “Yes, being a nurse in war is certainly an experience,” she said quietly. At that, the last passenger turned their attention back to their own row and left them alone.

“What the hell was that about?” Napoleon whispered. 

“As I said, bad dream,” Josefina responded dismissively. 

“If someone has hurt you-”

Josefina looked him in the eye. “There would be nothing you can do about it now,” she replied. “Besides, he was already taken care of.”

Napoleon felt his stomach drop. “Did he?”

Josefina shook her head. “Not that. But he did give me a nice beating for my troubles.”

“And when you say ‘taken care of’?”

She gave him a look. “You know my old boss. Use your imagination.”

Napoleon didn’t say anything else. There was nothing like a little violence to remind him that all the time that had passed had been real. Life had happened to both of them in the years past and it was as big of a sign as any that he needed to just get over himself and his feelings and work with her to get through this mission. Yet as the plane reached the terminal and they began to disembark he held her hand tightly as if the very idea of letting go meant that she would disappear from him. 

They climbed into a waiting taxi and made their way to their hotel. It wasn’t a hotel Napoleon recognized, but as they walked through the lobby he could tell that there were people that recognized Josefina. A knowing nod or a polite tip of the hat said this was a place where she knew the lay of the land. The rest of them would be dependent on her. 

Still, she urged him to walk up to the desk with her on his arm to check them in for their room. He was unsurprised to find that they had gotten upgraded to one of the hotel’s largest suites completely free of charge. But he cracked the joke about making him look good in front of his new wife regardless. He hoped the internal groans of the people around them would be enough to keep attention away from them. 

They strolled to the elevators and made their way up to their rooms. The bellhop came with them to drop off their luggage and Napoleon surveyed the room as Josefina threw the curtains open. The view was stunning. Josefina had told him the beaches of Sicily were gorgeous now that the war was over, but he still hadn’t been keen. Between the war and his previous electrifying adventure in Italy he was not overly eager to be back. 

The thought of Rome made a phantom jolt run up his arm. He jerked despite himself and the movement drew Josefina’s attention. “Are you alright?” she asked. 

“Yes, of course, darling,” he said. He shot a look at the bellhop who was still unloading their luggage. “Just that old saying, you know. A goose walked over my grave.”

Josefina gave a light laugh but he noticed that it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She stepped to the bellhop and gave him a tip as she thanked him in Italian. He left quickly and she followed behind him to close and lock the door. She turned back around and pierced him a look. “What’s really wrong?”

Napoleon shook his head. “An old injury flare-up. Nothing to make a fuss about.”

“When did you get injured?”

“A couple of years ago. It’s nothing, really.” He grabbed their luggage and hauled it to the bedroom. “Let’s get unpacked.” He carried their luggage into the bedroom and stopped. “Oh shit.”

Josefina rounded the corner. “What?”

“There’s only one bed,” he pointed out.

“Of course there is. We’re supposed to be newlyweds. What newlyweds sleep separately?”

“It’s fine. I’ll take the couch.” Napoleon grumbled. 

She gave him an odd look. “Stop being so dramatic, Napoleon,” she turned and strolled back to the sitting room. Napoleon heard the clink of glasses and the decanter and turned around as she handed him a drink. “You can just sleep in the bed with me. It’s not like that’s never happened before.” 

\----------------------

Twenty minutes later, the phone rang. Napoleon picked up the receiver and was greeted with a man’s voice. “I need to speak to Jo.” the gruff voice barked.

“Hold, please,” Napoleon replied and walked to the sitting room to find Josefina. She sat perched on one of the couches looking at a fashion magazine. “Phone call for you.”

Josefina looked up and he saw the dread that flashed quickly across her face. He had been right in reading her expression back at the U.N.C.L.E base. She didn’t want to be doing this. She quickly flashed a smile and stood up to retrieve the phone. She spoke lowly in clipped Italian, barely toeing the line between gracious and short. A restaurant name and a time to meet. Tomorrow at eight p.m. 

Napoleon heard as she hung up the phone and sighed. He pretended to read the newspaper as she walked back into the sitting room and flopped down on the couch. He looked over at her and took in her face. She was miserable. “So that’s him?” he asked her.

Josefina nodded. “Yes, that’s my contact. His name is Dominic.”

“He sounds nice.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Sure he does.”

“It also sounds like you two have dinner plans.”

“Mhmm. Tomorrow night.”

Napoleon folded the paper and leaned forward. “Josie, if you’re worried about this man…” He paused as she chuckled. “What?”

“Nobody’s called me Josie in years.” she smiled. “I’ve missed it.” 

He tried to ignore that his heart suddenly began to race and continued. “I can be there if you need me.”

She shook her head. “No, I’m not worried that he’s going to hurt me or do anything bad. He’s and his are far too reliant on the….assistance that they get from our mutual boss. If he fucks that up he ends up six feet under.”

The sentiment brought Napoleon only mild comfort. There were a million ways that it could still go wrong, but he trusted her to know how to best work her contact. He just prayed that she was right. 

After some time of rest, Josefina stood up and stretched. “We’re going out,” she announced. 

Napoleon raised an eyebrow at her. “Oh, are we?”

“Of course! “We’re a newlywed tourist couple in Italy for God’s sake!” she replied. “If we stay inside the whole time people are going to be ten times more suspicious of us than if we go out and gawk at all the fancy buildings.”

He knew she was right. He stood up and stretched. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Josefina ran into the bedroom. She came back out with her hat, sunglasses, and a ridiculously large smile. “Andiamo!” she cheered, arms raised over her head in victory. 

Napoleon couldn’t help but find it oddly endearing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Andiamo roughly translate to "Here we go" or "Let's go". 
> 
> At least that's what Google told me.


	7. Old Friend

Josefina almost felt as though she should applaud the universe for it's twisted sense of humor. The first time she had come to Italy she was a newly single, sad, young girl who had just witnessed her boyfriend dragged from their bed and thrown in jail. Her employer had shipped her off "until the heat died down", like the rich shipped off their bad children to boarding school. So she gave one hundred percent to her work when she was on duty, and she drank and partied and did all the things a good, respectable girl would get queasy at the mere thought of in her downtime. 

It was during all this that she met Dominic. He was an associate for the alliance family of her employer and the family she was to answer to in her time in Italy. Tall, dark, handsome, and bad was the very thing Josefina was all too eager to drown her sorrows in.

What she hadn't expected was the feeling of guilt. After their first night she dodged him for three weeks. They only came back into contact because their mutual employer needed them both to handle a job. 

It wasn't Josefina's normal kind of job. Back in the States, she had a set expectation and she knocked it out of the park. But in Italy, they weren't keen on a woman being an employee of the family which she really didn't understand. It wasn't like she had been made. She couldn't. So what was the big deal?

The big deal turned out to be that in Italy all employees were expected to get their hands dirty. And since her orders had been to do whatever was asked of her, she had no choice but to agree. 

She didn't pull the trigger the first time. Dominic had spared her that harshness. But she did have to help him with the clean-up which was overwhelming for a first timer. 

There had been two things she had appreciated about Dominic: the first was that he was patient with her as he walked her through what they had to do. He understood it was a moment that tilted the soul and would blur the lines of morality for any human being. 

The second was that he, too, was able to compartmentalize their extracurriculars when they worked together. It was after they were done that he confronted her. 

“Was I that bad?” he asked her with a sly grin.

She had rolled her eyes. “Not at all. I just don’t want to give the wrong impression.”

“And what impression would that be?”

“That I’m looking for anything serious. I just got out of a relationship. I’m just living in the moment.”  
“Well then I’m perfect,” he replied with a smile. “I’m expected to marry a God-fearing, Catholic, Italian woman. You are none of those things.”

“You sure know how to flatter a girl.”

But she did end up spending the rest of her summer with Dominic. He was great in bed, he was fun to party with, he knew how to cook, and it made both their bosses happy to have someone who could keep an eye on her. 

After she returned to New York they had stayed in touch on a friendly basis for a while. Over the years, Dominic would get married and have a son. He seemed to care about them enough. But sometimes, Josefina could read between the lines in his letters. He missed freedom. He missed youth. He missed her.

Now she was back in Italy with the man who’s ending had left her broken all those years before. He would despise Dominic, and Dominic would hate him in kind. She had to make sure that the two of them stayed far away from each other. 

She had spent the previous day out with Napoleon and, she had to admit, it had been the best day of her life in a long time. She had forgotten how happy it made her to see him smile, and how his laugh could send a wave of warmth through her. But she couldn’t think about that now.

Josefina took a deep breath and observed herself in the mirror. Everything was exactly as it should be: her dress hugged all the right places, her makeup was flawless, and her hair tossed just so. She looked exactly how God and she intended. But it meant little to ease the sinking pit in her stomach. 

It wasn’t that she had suddenly begun to dislike Dominic. But whenever they got together they had a bad habit of getting “together”. Josefina had crossed many lines over the years, but helping a man cheat on his wife was one she had leapt over before and she wasn’t dying to do it now. Not to mention one simple fact: He was not Napoleon.

“Fuck.” she growled, glaring at her own reflection in frustration. She glared at herself in the mirror. “Josefina,” she began quietly. “You need to let it go. Let him go. Too much has happened. Too much time has passed. He is here as your work partner and nothing more.”

As if she had summoned him, Josefina heard the door to the hotel room open and she didn’t say anything more. She left their room to see Napoleon in a surprisingly breezy cotton button up. He still had his suit pants on though and she wanted to laugh. He wore suits like they were a second skin.

He closed the door and turned around to see her standing in the doorway of the sitting room and froze. She saw the quick scan he did of her outfit, up and down, and his face went blank. “Do I look bad?” she asked. 

He shook his head. “No, not at all.” he replied. “It was just a bit of a surprise is all.”

“Oh. Well that’s good.” she said with mock relief. 

The two stood in silence for a moment as they stared at each other awkwardly. Finally, Napoleon cleared his throat. “It’s, uh….it’s 7:30.”

“Right! Right. Okay, well, wish me luck.” she said as she scrambled for her clutch and moved towards the door. 

“Be careful, Josie.” 

She closed the door and tried to think of anything that would take her mind from the tears that she felt threaten to prick her eyes. It was just a stupid nickname. Why did she feel so sentimental? 

“You’re probably just premenstrual, Jo.” she said quietly to herself. “Knock it off.” She stood straight, pushed her shoulders back, and walked with as much confidence as she could muster to the elevator and out of the hotel. 

The restaurant Dominic had chosen was not terribly far away and she decided to walk it instead of flagging down a taxi. The cool, night air from the ocean helped clear her head and soothe some of her anxiety as she made her away down the few blocks between the hotel and their meeting place. When she turned the corner she saw Dominic standing under the streetlight outside the restaurant. He was as handsome as ever though she could begin to see the grey peppered into his hair and beard. 

At the sound of her footsteps, he looked up and gave her a large smile. “Buonasera!” 

Josefina smiled back. “Buonasera! You look as handsome as ever!”

“Thank you! You’re looking very beautiful yourself.”

She gave him a hug. “We age like fine wine.” 

“I think you’re right,” Dominic shook his head. “Pity. We would have made beautiful children.”

Josefina smacked him on the arm and reached for the door. Dominic cut her off. “You American women!” he sighed in mock agitation. “So independent! So brash! That’s not how we do things around here." 

She rolled her eyes but stepped away from the door so that he could open it for her. They walked into the restaurant and Dominic discussed the reservation with the hostess. She grabbed the menus and took them to a table at the back of the restaurant. Josefina noted all of the doors as well as the solid view of the window that they both had as they sat down. The hostess gave them both their menus and walked away. “We’re not expecting trouble, are we?” she asked quietly as she glanced over her menu.

“Why would we be?”

“We’re away from the windows and near an exit,” she replied. “Which means either you want us to have an escape route or you want someone to get to us. Or me, perhaps?” She glanced over the menu at him.

“There’s still nothing that slips by you,” Dominic shook his head. “I’m not expecting trouble. But I am meeting with someone in a delicate situation. So it would be wise to make sure both she and myself have an exit strategy. Just in case.”

Josefina nodded and turned her attention back to the menu. The waiter came and Dominic ordered wine while she thought about what she wanted. Eventually she closed her menu and looked at him. “So, let’s get this started shall we.”

Dominic raised an eyebrow. “Business first?”

“I find that it’s best to get awkward moments out of the way early.”

He closed his menu and sat it down. “Fair enough. So, I’ve been told that the debt for this information has already been paid to the higher-ups. My understanding is this is about a particular black market auction being held this month in Lithuania?”

Josefina nodded. “There is a particular item of interest to my employer and I am needing a way in.”

“Very well,” Dominic replied. “We have not been informed of the auction yet. However, all of our sources have been informed that once the information makes it to them that they are to ensure that the Davises are placed upon the list as surrogates for the boss.”

“What is the reason he needs a surrogate?”

“We’re staging a deal gone bad. The excuse will be that he has gone to ground in the interests of his own protection.”

“And why two white people from Wisconsin?”

“Your husband is one of the lawyers on your family’s payroll,” he replied. “He’s trustworthy. The fact that he’s over here, seemingly innocently touring Europe on his honeymoon with his new wife, makes movement between countries less suspicious.”

“Okay. Anything else?”

Dominic shook his head. “Not that I can think of at this moment. When all of the details of the “bad deal” are worked out I will have a messenger deliver you a letter in France. It will give you the information you need regarding the attack and a phone number to call me. I need you to call me and we’ll have a conversation about how the boss ‘needs you two to do this for him’ so any interested parties will believe you’re legitimate.” 

Josefina thought for a moment. “If you are getting us in what do we need the guy in France for?”

“My understanding is the French gentleman is helping facilitate the event. So he will know the location, the layout, security, and all of the fun little details you will need to succeed.”

“Fair enough.” Josefina replied. She looked him over. “So, you’ve already been paid. You’re getting something from them again.”

“Name of the game. You can’t beat them? Join them. Or, at least, exploit them. They’re the government. They can afford it” he leaned forward and placed his hand on hers. “Not that we can’t have a little fun anyway.”

She pulled her hand back slowly. “I’m a little preoccupied at the moment, Dominic.”

He studied her, his brown eyes sparkling with a darkness that she had never seen before. “Does he know?”

She frowned. “Does who know what?”

“Your man. Does he know that you’re not sugar, spice, and everything nice?” he leaned back and took a look around. “Does he know that you have blood on your hands?”

“That’s not important.”

“Oh, but it is, bella. It’s one thing to play the game to the point that you ruin someone’s life, but it’s a whole other thing to actually pull the trigger on them. And you did pull the trigger, eventually. And quite frequently. You were good at it.”

Josefina’s hand slammed the table loudly. Other patrons looked at her curiously and she feigned a smile. She turned back to Dominic with ice in her voice. “That is enough.”

“All I am saying is that it is going to take a certain type of person to love you, doll. You and I both know it.”

Josefina paused. “There is no one.” she stated matter-of-factly. “But you know I’m not here on a pleasure tour this time.”

Dominic smiled. “So the man who answered the phone?”

“Was my partner in this case. Nothing more.”

“Well, then what do you have to lose? I can be discreet.”

Josefina leaned forward. “We’re friends, Dominic. And as your friend I am going to save you a lot of time and heartache by not helping facilitate you cheating on your wife. Because that’s what you have to lose.”

Dominic sat up stiffly and took a sip of wine. “You’re right,” he replied. He stared off in the distance for a moment. “I just miss it all.”

She smirked. “Who doesn’t miss being younger? We’re in our thirties now and it’s just started to dawn on us that this is really it. It’s all downhill from here.”

“Christ, Jo. We’re supposed to be having a nice time. Now I kind of want to go throw myself off a pier.”

Josefina shook her head. “I’m sorry.”

Dominic waved a hand dismissively. “It’s alright. Let’s just….chat.”

The waiter came and took their order. They both asked for more wine and Josefina began to relax. She and Dominic had always been able to have an easy rapor of jokes and stories and it seemed to still be the case. He showed her pictures of his son and the two told stories of all of the things they had missed in each other’s lives. 

Dominic paid for dinner and the two exited the restaurant. “Let me walk you back to the hotel. It can get unsafe around here at night.”

Josefina agreed and the two made their way slowly back to the hotel. They continued to talk about nothing in particular and the closer they got to the building the more Josefina felt anxious. Hadn’t she just said earlier that she needed to keep Dominic and Napoleon away from each other? Now Dominic was walking her back to her hotel. 

Sensing her unease, Dominic stopped at the corner. “Bella, one thing,” he said as he took her hands in his. “You make sure that he treats you right.”

Josefina stiffened. “Who? I told you, Dom, there’s no one.”

“There’s someone, Jo. Whether you want to admit it or not.” he leaned in and placed a quick peck on both of her cheeks. “Buonanotte, Josefina.”

She smiled at him in response. “Buonanotte, Dominic. Take care.”

He returned her smile before he walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buonasera - Good evening  
bella - beautiful  
Buonanotte - Good night
> 
> Again, all according to the Internet, so if I'm wrong please feel free to correct me.


	8. Everybody Beats Up Solo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Which Napoleon Solo has a not-so-great evening.

Napoleon thought he could handle the idea of Josie going on a dinner date with some old male friend. It was just for the mission. It was no big deal. But the minute she had stepped out of the hotel room it felt as if the entire world had tilted upside down. Would she be safe? What if she was kidnapped? How long would it take him and the others to figure it out? On and on the who’s and what if’s circled around in his head until he couldn’t take it anymore. He didn’t own her, they weren’t together, and he was Napoleon Solo. What he needed was a drink at the bar and a lovely woman with which he could spend a little quality time. 

He freshened up and pulled his jacket back on before strolling out of the room as nonchalant as he could muster. The halls were quiet and empty at this time of the evening and he turned his attention to the artwork on the walls in an attempt to fill his head with literally anything but his own thoughts.

That painting is a knock-off and a cheap one too; the creator didn’t even use the correct architecture known for the time period of the subject he was painting. Another one depicted boats with rigging inconsistent with European methods. One by one he surveyed them until he heard the ding of the elevator and turned to face it. 

He hadn’t expected a dark-haired, slim-built woman to walk out with a picturesque smile plastered on her face. She was exactly his type, and while he initially turned to give her the ol’ Solo razzle-dazzle, something felt off.

She was too much of his type. In fact, she had a striking resemblance to….

An explosion of pain crept along the back of his skull and his vision went dark. He felt himself fall back against the wall and he put his arms up in enough time to block a second blow. He could feel the cold metal of the gun that someone was attempting to bash him with and he grabbed for it blindly. By some dumb luck, he grasped it and wrenched it free from his assailant's hands. 

He heard a female voice curse in Russian. His free hand reached out to grab at one of the women but she slipped from his fingers. As his vision cleared he saw the silhouette of the last one run around the corner and out of sight. He launched himself after them.

He rounded a corner and slammed right into the female diversion who was being held in both hands by none other than Illya Kuryakin. He cut his gaze between the two of them. “What is this?” he asked Napoleon. 

“She and a friend just tried to jump me. The friend was Russian. That’s all I know.”

Kuryakin looked at the girl that shrunk between the two of them. “Who sent you?” he growled in Russian. 

The girl’s doe eyes widened and she shook her head. She began to choke and her body began to buckle. Kuryakin swore. “Cyanide!” 

By the time Napoleon had processed what had been said, she was dead. The two stood staring at each other for a long minute. “Well, now what the hell do we do?” Napoleon asked.

“We have to get rid of her,” Kuryakin replied.

Napoleon sighed. “How do you propose we do that?”

“What is going….” Gaby began before she stopped at the sight of them. “Oh my God!”

“Great, it’s a party.” Napoleon quipped.

“I will put her body out in the alleyway beside hotel,” Kuryakin continued. “I imagine her little friend will be back to get her soon.”

Napoleon looked around. “I’m guessing the stairwell is that way. It’s probably why they were running this direction. Gaby and I can run interference on the doors to the floors under this one. Then we can all go in the alleyway together and handle her.”

Gaby nodded. “I think that is the best plan. I don’t know that any of us should be too far from one another right now. We don’t know who these women are or what they want.”

Gaby and Napoleon made their way to the stairwell and took turns passing each other on each floor. They leaned against the door until Illya passed and then moved on. At the bottom stairwell, Gaby opened the door first. Napoleon followed behind and covered the other end of the alleyway. When they were sure the coast was clear, Illya slipped out of the stairwell and placed the girl against the wall. Quickly, the three of them made their way back into the stairwell and closed the door. “I think we need a drink, gentleman,” Gaby announced.

Napoleon waved her to lead the way and the three of them made their way to the hotel’s bar. It was a small space with four bar stools and a small handful of tables scattered throughout. Ambient music played low in the background as the three of them took a seat. Napoleon noticed he had the empty barstool beside him and while he was once hopeful that someone may join him there and take his mind off things, the open space now made him uneasy. 

Gaby ordered three Old Fashions before they could even catch their breath and flashed a small smile. “So, how are you doing Napoleon?”

The bartender sat the three drinks down in front of them and he snatched his up. “I’ve been better, Gaby.”

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“He is missing his girl,” Illya chimed in.

“She’s not my girl, Peril. Not anymore.”

“But that hasn’t stopped you from being upset about her having to leave this evening,” Illya replied. 

“I suppose not. But this is how it has to be, isn’t it?” Napoleon asked. He tilted the glass back and finished the drink in one sip. “I knew when I saw her face at the debriefing.” He held a hand up to signal the bartender for another.

Kuryakin put a hand on his shoulder as he took a seat beside him. “That might be true. But knowing that does not stop it from hurting.”

“I’m not hurting, Peril.” Napoleon retorted. 

“Oh, of course not. That’s why you were headed down here to the bar, to drink by yourself.” Kuryakin held his hand up to signal for a second drink as well. 

“I know you two were...intimate,” Gaby began, “ But how did you two even meet?"

Napoleon sighed. "Her boss asked me to...recover a bit of artwork for him. A gift for his wife's 40th birthday. He was in the doghouse because he got caught with his pants around his ankles, to put it delicately. Anyway, it was a nice piece. The moon and stars in the night sky. A favorite of the missus." Napoleon sat down and swirled his whiskey. "After my triumphant success, I was invited to his wife's birthday party on top of my payment. He figured he could help me out with some connections."

"Did he?" Kuryakin asked.

Napoleon smirked. "Another story for another time. The piece was put on display in the main ballroom of this man's house for everyone to drool over. I was taking one final good look at it myself when I heard a voice behind me start quoting 'It's A Wonderful Life'."

Gaby nodded, but Kuryakin looked confused. "I have never heard of that."

"It's an older movie from the States." Napoleon replied. "I didn't see it until I returned some time after the war. But there's a scene where the main character, George, is standing with his girl, Mary, and he says to her, 'What do you want? You want the moon? Just say the word and I'll throw a lasso around it and pull it down."

Kuryakin smirked. “That's cheesy.”

Gaby rolled her eyes. "I think it was cute."

“I had thought it was, too,” Napoleon said as he took another sip. “So I turned around and there she was. In this pale gold, strapless, silk Givenchy dress with her big, bright eyes and her warm smile. She damn near knocked me off my feet.”

“I never thought I would hear of the day when Napoleon Solo was the one who had been struck speechless.”

“I don’t think anyone ever did,” he replied. “But I was. I recovered as best I could. We walked and talked for a while. Then she found a coat closet…”

“Annnnddd we can all guess what happened next,” Gaby chimed up as she brought her drink to her lips. “No need for those details.”

“What details?” Napoleon heard Josefina’s voice echo out from behind him. He turned to see her in the doorway of the bar. She looked tired, but generally well and she walked towards them. She paused with a frown when she saw him. “What happened to your head?”

He waved it off. “I’ll tell you about it later.” He pushed the bar stool out for her. “Care to join?” 

“Don’t mind if I do,” Josefina sighed and climbed up on the barstool. “Whatever they’re having,” she told the bartender. 

“How did your dinner date go?” Gaby asked. 

“It wasn’t a date. He’s an old friend. A married old friend,” Josefina replied. “But he told me what I needed to know. Which we can discuss later.”

“I believe there are many things we will be discussing later.”

Josefina arched an eyebrow but said nothing. She took a long sip of her drink. 

The group sat at the bar and had a brief chat for a few minutes while they finished their drinks. After they paid out they made their way upstairs. “I think our room would be best.” Napoleon said quietly as the group got into the elevator. 

“Mhmm,” Kuryakin replied. 

The elevator stopped on their floor and they made their way to Napoleon and Josefina’s room. Napoleon ushered everyone in before closing the door and beginning to immediately pry everything apart. After a moment he was joined by Kuryakin as they upturned almost everything in the space. Josefina looked on horrified as Gaby shrugged and made her way to the whiskey decanter to pour herself another glass. 

Eventually satisfied with their search, the men put the items back and waved at the women to join them on the sofa. 

“Let’s start with you, Jo,” Napoleon remarked.

He listened as Josefina recounted the information she received from the dinner. He was really going to have to play up that lawyer bit if he was going to convince anyone. How he was going to pretend like he knew a single thing about the law in Wisconsin was beyond him. The best he could hope for is that nobody else would know those laws any better than he did.

“So,” Josefina concluded as she turned to him. “What happened to your head?”

“I was attacked while I was waiting for the elevator. Two Russian women. Whoever they were with knew something about me because the one running distraction was exactly my type.”

"Isn't every woman your type?" Gaby quipped. 

“And you don’t think it was a lucky guess,” Josefina replied, a small smirk forming at the corner of her mouth from Gaby's jab. 

“No,” Illya cut in. “And if you had seen her neither would you.”

“Where is she now?”

The three of them looked between one another. “In the alleyway next to the hotel,” Napoleon replied.

Josefina’s eyes widened in horror. “Why?"

"We figured her partner would come back for her. I'll trail her from here." Kuryakin stated. 

She sighed.“You know, you probably have a concussion. And you definitely should not have been drinking.” She moved the hair near the crown of his head and made an involuntary noise of pain. Josefina leaned in and looked at the wound. “It’s not still bleeding, thankfully. But it should still be cleaned. You should go shower.” 

Napoleon groaned. “Can’t we just go to bed and I can shower tomorrow?”

“No, ew,” Josefina replied. “Go. And save some hot water. I want to shower, too.”

He pushed himself up from the chair and went into the bedroom to find his clothes. He could hear the others talking about something but he couldn’t make out what it was. The shower stung as it hit the wound on his head, but he didn’t think much of it. 

By the time he was done Illya and Gaby were gone and Josefina had taken a spot on the sitting room couch. She flipped through another magazine and sipped another drink. She had slipped out of her dress and sat in her slip. “I’m out.” he told her as he tried to not get lost on the idea of how short the slip’s hem was. 

“Okay, I’ll go, and then we can get some sleep. You should sleep in bed with me tonight. It has to feel better than this awful couch.” she replied as she stood. As she walked by him she paused and put a hand on his robed shoulder. “Are you sure you’re alright? You don’t want to get that looked at or anything? I hear they have a good doctor on staff here.”

“Why would they….” Napoleon stopped and shook his head. “I shouldn’t ask. But yes, I’m sure. I’m fine.” 

“Okay,” she replied with a small smile. 

He heard the click of the door and walked back into the bedroom to climb into bed. The cool, clean sheets and the soft mattress was exactly what he needed after the day he had had. He felt himself beginning to drift off to sleep when he heard the bathroom door open and smelled the unmistakable smell of Josefina’s shampoo. He smiled to himself. She hadn’t changed it in ten years. He felt the light dip as she climbed into bed beside him and he drifted off to her scent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been drafted for two months, but time isn't real anymore. I hope to do start chugging along on this.


End file.
